


Toeing the Line

by graysonsflight



Series: Lost and Found [4]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, Young Justice - All Media Types
Genre: Complicated Relationships, F/M, Friendship, Gen, Jason Todd is a fantastic little brother, Jason and Dick brotherly bonding, Multi-POVs, parents not being where they should be
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-13
Updated: 2020-07-13
Packaged: 2021-03-04 18:48:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,865
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25241191
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/graysonsflight/pseuds/graysonsflight
Summary: When Barbara danced, she felt alive. She could forget about everything - except maybe the fact that neither of her parents had managed to show up for her recital. Fortunately, a pair of Robins make it a point to be there for her. One, the little brother she should have had, the other a boy who makes it complicated, toeing the line between friends or something more.
Relationships: Barbara Gordon & Jason Todd, Barbara Gordon/Dick Grayson, Dick Grayson & Jason Todd
Series: Lost and Found [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/58469
Comments: 11
Kudos: 112





	Toeing the Line

**Author's Note:**

> Originally, this was going to be about a thousand words and then it decided to be more than that. But this way I got to have a little more fun with Jason being an excellent little brother - because _honestly,_ that is one of my favorites. While this _is_ a part of my Lost and Found universe - you don't need it anything else for this story. Thank you to the lovely Gem for the beta 💛💛. Thank you for reading!

Dance made Barbara feel alive. She loved the rush of power and control as she moved across the stage – _up, down, up,_ on her pointe shoes – her body obeying her command and occasionally defying gravity. Dance had been her first love, from the moment her mother had handed her her first pair of ballet flats and scraped her hair back into a tight bun. It had been the moment in her mind, saved forever, in which she remembered her mother looking at her with pride: _You’ll dance, baby girl, just like I did._

She had been _four_ , and at sixteen, she couldn’t remember if her mother had ever looked at her that way again. And Barbara had a _pretty good_ memory.

Things had always been complicated between them. Her mother was a complex woman, her brain full of lies and an immeasurable desolation she often could not overcome. So much of Barbara’s early childhood had been spent with her mother shut behind a closed door in a darkened room, her father at work, and Barbara with her little brother, doing everything she could to stop him from crying, from screaming, from destroying anything – _or anyone_ – he could get his angry little hands on. Even her. _Especially_ her.

Barbara had failed more often than not and the weight of that failure sat lodged in her chest no matter how many different ways she learned how to fly. She tried not to think of it as she launched herself into the air, her face a perfect mask of control as she held her Grand Jeté as long as the rules of physics would permit. She refused to think about the empty chairs in the performance space; the places her mother and father were supposed to be occupying. Not until the gentle applause of the refined Gothamites surrounded her as she finished her routine did she let her smile waver. It was her first solo of two in this evening’s performance. The audience appreciated her skill, but she wasn’t one of them, didn’t quite fit in with their daughters who wore real diamonds in their ears as they performed.

Her dad had at least called, and texted, telling her how sorry he was that work would be keeping him late. And he was the police commissioner so of course Barbara understood. He loved her, but he loved his city too – and tonight when they had both needed him, he had had to choose the city. Barbara dug her teeth into her lower lip as she walked off stage.

Barbara Kean hadn’t bothered to call. Not since Thursday, when she had promised Barbara that _of course_ she would be at her recital, that she _wouldn’t miss it_. After that, texts on Friday and two calls this morning had gone unanswered. The ticket Barbara had purchased sat untouched in the box office. But Barbara Gordon refused to cry; her makeup was set.

“Pas mal, Gordon,” her instructor said with a cool nod. It was the closest any of them ever got to praise from Madame Toussaint. Barbara smiled and nodded as was expected of her. The steel-haired dance instructor did not expect many words from her pupils, just acquiescence. The woman had already made clear how much she disliked Barbara’s acro-infused second solo, so this slight praise for her more classical piece was likely all Barbara would hear from her tonight. And that was fine; she told herself she didn’t need the praise – that she could just be happy with her own performance without the recognition. She rushed into the changing room, determined to stick every move like a knife if only to prove she didn’t need anyone else.

\---

Jason checked the clock on his phone for the millionth time. Alfred had made him promise to let Dick rest, but this was getting ridiculous. They were going to be late. Already in his suit, Jason stood outside Dick’s bedroom door weighing his options. He _could_ go without him, but that just had bad idea written all over it.

Groaning, Jason knocked on the door loudly; he pushed it open without waiting for a response.

“Up and at ‘em, Dickie – let’s go!”

The older boy shot up in bed with a start, hands up by his face and scanning the room for danger. “Wasssa…Jay?” he croaked, eyes red and bloodshot. Last night’s explosion on patrol had left him a little bleary and definitely suffering from some standard smoke inhalation.

“Come on, get up! It’s going to take us forty minutes to make it downtown. It’s a good thing Alfie made you shower last night because you do _not_ have time now.” Jason made his way over to his brother’s closet and started rifling through outfits. He pulled out a navy suit, hanging it on the door before going back in for a shirt and tie. While he could get away without the tie – _he was the bad boy_ – Dickie bird had to go full polish if they were going to be stuck in the same room as the Gotham city bluebloods and all their fancy-schmancy-finery. They both had reputations to uphold after all.

“Seriously man, “ he called. “You’ve got like twenty-minutes and we need to be out the door.”

“Jay?” His voice still sounded like he’d been screaming at a death metal concert.

“Mmm?”

“What are you doing?”

Jason stopped, eyebrow raised as he pulled out of the closet. “Getting your ass out of bed and into one of these stupid suits?”

“I see that,” and to his credit, Dick _did_ finally get out of bed. “But _why?_ ” Jason tried not to wince when he saw the burn on Dick’s shoulder. He handed him the rest of the outfit before making his way into Dick’s bathroom.

“Let me help you get a new bandage on before you change,” he called as he turned on the taps to wash his hands. “We might want to use the numbing stuff because you know those old ladies can’t keep their hands off of you.”

“What am I forgetting about Jay?” Dick whined. Jason could hear him moving around though and waited until he had joined him in the bathroom, suit pants on and dress shirt dangling from his fingers. He dutifully sat on the edge of the sink, only hissing a little as Jason applied the burn cream.

“Hey Dick, what _day_ is it?” Jason knew the guy couldn’t keep track unless school was in session and even then it was hit or miss. That and last night had been rough on him; Jason felt a little guilty he hadn’t been on patrol, which may have been why he was trying to save his ass now.

“Thurs…?”

“It’s _Saturday_.”

That got his attention: “ _Shit_ – Babs’s dance thing.”

“Uh-huh.”

“When does that start?”

“We’ve got time,” Jason soothed as he finished taping the fresh gauze into place. “But not a lot, so put your clothes on.” He walked out of the bathroom, his eyes scanning Dick’s room as the older boy finished getting ready.

Dick’s bookshelf didn’t have as many _actual books_ on it as Jason’s did, but it was covered in picture frames. There was one with him and his parents, one with his team, one with him and Bruce, Alfred and Bruce, and even one with Jason and Bruce together at a baseball game. It was a little more than two and half years old, the year Bruce and Dick had found Jason out in the alley trying to jack the tires from the Batmobile and instead of beating his ass, had brought him home. Jason found himself running his fingers over the frame as he remembered the day. He had let slip that he liked baseball and had used to listen to games on old radios and stuff. Dick had gotten all excited, gone flying up the stairs to Bruce’s private study and then came flying back down, telling him to go get ready. At the time, Jason hadn’t known what to expect – but that had been the first game he’d ever actually gone to.

In the picture, the younger version of Jason was smiling, his eyes on the field. Bruce, wearing a Gotham Knights hat pulled down over his eyes, had a smile splitting his face too, only he was looking at Jason instead. Jason hadn’t known the picture was being taken at the time, but he was kind of glad it existed now.

He moved his eyes down to another picture – or _pictures_. It was a thin strip from a photo booth, four small pictures in a row. The first two featured Dick and Barbara making silly faces at the camera, the third had him pressing a kiss to her cheek – surprise clear on her face, and in the last one Barbie was very clearly rolling her eyes, but even in miniature, Jason could see the blush beneath her freckles – while Dick looked at her like she was the only thing in the world. Jason sighed softly, tapping his fingers against the shelf. Those two idiots were something else.

Growing up in the Narrows, Jason had seen a lot of relationships fall apart. Had watched his mother try and date after his dad had been found dead in his prison cell, but the guys she found hadn’t stuck around – and Jason had never wanted them to.

But Dick and Barbie were different. Despite all their _just friends_ bullshit, Jason could see how much they cared about each other. How Barbie smiled brighter when Dick was in the room – or how Dick’s eye would follow her like a flower turned towards the sun. And he’d caught them doing stuff before; stealing kisses when they thought no one was watching and the occasional hand in places it wasn’t supposed to be. But they always just laughed it off or made excuses for why it wouldn’t work. Well, they were mostly Barbara’s excuses and Dick would just nod along and she’d miss the way his smile fell and his eyes dimmed, but Jason saw it. Which was why he had to make sure Dick made it to her dance recital.

“You almost done, pretty boy?” Jason called, turning just in time to see Dick walking out of the bathroom, his middle finger offered in Jason’s direction. The older boy quickly slid a belt through his pants before picking up his jacket and heading for the door.

“Bikes?” Dick asked, leaning down to pick up his motorcycle helmet as well.

“You do remember I’m fourteen, right?”

“Jay, I’ve been teaching you to ride for more than a year – but if you want to ride on mine so you can hug me – ” Jason shoved him before he could finish.

“You’re the touch starved one.”

“Go grab your helmet,” Dick laughed, pulling Jason into a quick one-armed hug. “I’ll meet you in the garage.”

\---

Dick lead Jason to their seats in the back of the theater, both muttering quick apologies to the glaring faces that met them. He slid the cellophane and paper-wrapped flowers beneath his seat as quietly as he could. Yes, they were late and unaccompanied by a _real_ adult, but they had waited to sit down until in-between numbers, and this was where their hastily purchased tickets had put them.

He thumbed through the program distractedly. They had missed the first four numbers, which included the one that all of the students were in, meaning they’d missed Barbara’s first on stage piece, but they hadn’t missed any of her solos – and that was what was important. He looked through the booklet, completely unimpressed by the dancer currently on stage. It wasn’t her fault, this kind of dance had never been Dick’s thing. He could appreciate the power and skill it took, but too often he felt like that was _all_ the dancers were interested in showing; the end result was a little too sterile for him.

Dick tried not to fidget too badly. Not counting the current performer, there were still about twenty numbers left in the program – two of them Babs’s solos, and two more group numbers. At least in those, he would be able to focus on her. That meant seventeen numbers he was not interested in at all. Even with the fifteen-minute intermission, he knew that this was going to be rough.

He glanced over at Jason, who was already enraptured with the current performance. It had always been like this – Jason the more culturally couth, while Dick could hardly sit still long enough to really enjoy whatever lofty highbrow pastime was being foisted upon him. The kid might put up a stink whenever Bruce took them somewhere like the opera, or and Dick had to repress a shudder just thinking about it – _The Nutcracker_ , but in the end, Jason always became memorized.

It was funny, because between the two of them, the Blue Bloods of Gotham always picked Dick as the one most likely to succeed in their sparkling golden-filigreed world, and yet despite his rough around the edges refusal to wear a proper suit and tie, it was Jason who fit in more.

The current dancer struck her final pose and the polite applause pulled Dick from his thoughts.

“She was good,” Jason murmured to him nodding.

“Sure,” Dick answered vaguely. There was honestly no way Jason was going to get him to care about a single one of these performers except – Dick felt the air catch in his chest as he watched her walk out onto the stage. He would never get over the way Barbara looked in any of her dance costumes. He knew that whenever she was allowed to pick for herself, she went for understated, but the simple white leotard and gossamer skirt took his breath away. Asked to describe her on a normal day, Dick would say that Barbara Gordon was strong, controlled, beautiful always – but whenever she was about to dance, she was a dichotomy of delicate fire. She was steel, spun out so finely, Dick was sure he would cut himself along her edges.

Jason nudged him unnecessarily as the first notes of the music washed over Dick’s senses. It was something vaguely familiar, he was sure she’d had him listen to it before. Barbara almost always danced to things she liked cleverly disguised as string quartet covers. It was her way of sticking it to the classical sound requirements her instructor imposed upon all of them.

On the stage, Babs was in her element. She moved gracefully through her routine and Dick had to bite his lip to keep from laughing. He had seen pieces of this before, performed high above the streets of Gotham on rooftops during slow patrols these past few weeks. His mind wove the images together, Batgirl with her arms above her head, toe pointed, hair loose behind her as she spun and Babs, hair tied in a perfect bun as she leapt and twirled across the stage. They weren’t quite close enough to see clearly, but Dick wondered which smile the crowd was seeing tonight. He’d bet money it was the measured serenity she affected whenever she was anxious and not the quietly smoldering joy he knew lived inside of her. He wished that she could have that always.

“She’s holding back,” Jason whispered, a small scowl creasing his face. Dick nodded slowly; he could see it too. Not for the first time, Dick wanted her to just let go – let all of her emotions crash around her and escape her own mind. She struck her final pose, fingers extended gracefully, and Dick may not have been close enough to read her face, but he could read it in her body; Barbara looked like she was about to cry.

“Something’s wrong,” he said aloud, and it was Jason’s turn to nod as they both clapped, watching her walk off stage with her head held high.

They sat through the other performances with varying degrees of attention. Occasionally Jason would lean over and try to explain something to Dick, or point out a particularly overused song, but most of it swept over his head in a blur. He fingered the phone in his pocket absently, wishing he could text her, but knowing Babs’s phone would be completely off until the end of the recital.

The intermission found Dick and Jason out in the lobby, trying to stay as far from the milling crowds as possible. Now in the full light, people recognized who they were, and neither one of them had any interest in socializing.

“I haven’t seen Commish anywhere,” Jason said, putting voice to what Dick had been thinking.

“Me neither. She said her mom was going to come, so maybe he’s just avoiding her?” It didn’t feel right even as he said it. Dick knew that Commission Gordon’s relationship with his ex-wife was strained, but even in a small crowd like this, the police commissioner would have stood out as he awkwardly chatted with the Gotham Aristocracy. The only reason he and Jason wouldn’t have been able to spot the man was if he wasn’t here.

The pair of them expertly avoided staying too long in any conversations, choosing to ignore the whispered comments of the elite – those wondering a little too loudly which young lady they were there to see, or whether or not Bruce was there. Dick smiled tightly at the three different women who informed him their daughters would be so happy to know he’d come, each time Jason having to hide his laughter with a cough.

“Well aren’t you mister popular,” the younger boy teased as they eased back into their seat, Dick leaning down to check the flowers he’d stashed beside his helmet. They weren’t any more crushed then they’d been before.

“Just you wait,” he said, his voice a threat without any heat. “In a year or two, all of those same ladies are going to be after you for their younger girls.”

Jason laughed loud enough for the people around them to stare: “Not on your life, Dickie,” he said when his voice was back to a whisper. “Society girls aren’t my thing.”

“No,” Dick smiled, happy for once that _he_ was going to be able to do the teasing. He leaned closer so only Jason would hear him: “You just like going for girls too old for you who could absolutely kick your ass.” The younger boy blushed wonderfully as the lights went down.

“Artemis isn’t _that_ much older than me,” he grumbled. “And Donna’s like immortal or something so it doesn’t count.”

“ _Right_ , and Artemis’s _boyfriend_ isn’t a problem for you?”

“Kid Mouth’ll screw it up at some point,” he shrugged. “And when he does…”

Dick rolled his eyes dramatically. Jason had been hitting on his friends since he’d introduced them. It was a game and Dick was pretty sure the end goal was just to drive him nuts.

“Oh yeah and what about – ”

“ _Shhh_ ,” Jason hissed, sticking him with one of his pointy elbows. “It’s starting.”

Dick turned back towards the stage as the whole group of girls set themselves up on stage. They were all dressed in identical blush pink leotards and tutus that stuck straight out giving each girl her own orbit. He found Barbara quickly, the mask of almost empty calmness already plastered onto her face.

She danced in sync with the other girls, each of them blending into each other until one slender blonde broke away, performing what was probably the coveted solo piece of the night. She was beautiful, and if Jason’s low whistle was anything to go by, she was doing a great job, but Dick just couldn’t appreciate it – her eyes looked cold.

The number came to an end, and Dick joined in with the applause, his eyes sweeping over the program for what was probably the millionth time. Three more numbers, and Barbara would be on stage again.

When she finally came back on, this time in a suspiciously familiar blue colored leotard, Dick only just held his laugh, Jason on the other hand was not as successful.

“Wonder where she got _that_ color from?” he taunted, leaning forward on his elbows.

“Shut up,” Dick whispered, feeling his cheeks warm. It _was_ a great color on her. 

\---

Jason smiled smugly to himself. Things were working out better than he could have hoped for. He had a hard time deciding where to keep his eyes. On one hand, Barbara was killing it on stage. She launched herself into the air with ease, twisting her hips into a barrel roll – a move typically reserved for male dancers, but she made it look _so easy_. To Jason’s right, Dick was completely entranced, and Jason kinda liked seeing that look on his older brother’s face; he would rather the ground open up and eat him than admit it, but it was still true. Jason had decided that if the two of them couldn’t pull their heads out of their collective asses then he would just have to help.

He turned just in time to see Barbara execute the kind of flip her ballet instructor had definitely not taught her and probably not sanctioned, but it definitely looked like something Dick might have taught her.

“Yours?” he whispered. Dick’s only response was to smile, his eyes still tracking Barbie’s movements. “Madame Stuffy Skirt is probably going to lose her shit.”

“She would have had to have gotten it preapproved – Madame Toussaint’s probably already seen it.”

“But you haven’t?” Jason guessed.

“ _Jay_ ,” Dick whispered. “I’m trying to watch.”

Jason couldn’t blame him. For as much as Barbie had been holding back in her first solo, she was leaving everything out on the stage this time. Even from this far away, Jason could see how alive she was, the lights catching on the stitched details on her sheer gold skirt. He couldn’t make out what they were, only that they shimmered and sparkled every time she moved. He also really appreciated her music choice – forcing string version of Lorde’s “Royles” on every member of the stuffy suit and tie club in the room. He really appreciated the metaphorical middle finger.

When she finished, her body almost breaking in a curved arch, both he and Dick clapped, but Jason could tell the rest of the crowd wasn’t sure what to do with something like the dance Barbie had just given them. It wasn’t the same classical charm their own daughters had paraded about with – not that Jason couldn’t appreciate the skill level that took too – this was just something they weren’t accustomed to seeing. Barbie took her curtsy, her mask of polite indifference slipping back onto her face. She knew she wasn’t what these people wanted; Jason could relate.

Jason and Dick sat through the rest of the show, Dick’s near-constant fidgeting energy setting Jason’s nerves on edge. When the final curtain dropped across the stage, it was almost a race to see who could get up from their seat sooner. Without a word, they both grabbed their helmets, and Dick grabbed the flowers he had insisted they buy and he’d nearly crushed as he’d clutched them against the handles of his bike.

“Come on,” Dick said with a nod. “We can meet her out back.” They wove in and out of the crowd carefully, Dick smiling and muttering quick apologies while Jason did his best not to outright glare. None of these pretentious assholes actually wanted them – they wanted what they stood for, the Wayne name tacked onto at least Jason’s with a hyphen. He had always wondered why Dick hadn’t taken it as well, and even in the three years since Bruce’s adoption had made them a family, Jason hadn’t worked up the courage to ask.

The fresh air hit Jason in a rush as Dick pushed open a backdoor, dumping them out into the performers’ back alley.

“You don’t think she’ll head to the lobby first?” he asked, not seeing any of the other audience members around them.

“Nah,” Dick said with a shake of his head. “I’m pretty sure she doesn’t think anyone came. I checked my phone after her dance – Commish has been at GCPD all night.”

“So how’d she get here?”

Dick shrugged: “She takes the bus sometimes.”

“When are you going to teach her to ride?” Jason asked, leaning his back against the brick wall. She was actually old enough to drive at least, even if Commissioner Gordon had no intention of buying her a car, let alone a motorcycle.

“She won’t,” Dick sighed. “She says it’s too dangerous.”

“Bullshit.”

“ _Jay_ ,” Dick tone wavered somewhere between scolding for the swearing and the exhaustion born of having already lost an argument countless times.

“She just wants to keep riding with you, that’s what it is,” Jason smirked, breaking out into a full out laugh at Dick’s dramatic eye roll. “Come on, Dickie, you know it’s true.”

“Listen, Babs and I, we’re just…”

“Idiots?” Jason supplied helpfully. “Look, she’s got a million and one excuses, but I’d be willing to bet they boil down to you not kissing everything else in the meantime.”

“Remind me to kill you later,” Dick groaned. Jason knew he was dying to scrub his hands over his face – but since both his hands were full, the older boy settled for squeezing his eyes shut tightly instead.

“No killing little brothers.”

Jason and Dick both pulled themselves up from the wall as Barbie approached them. She still had her blue leotard on, but had a pair of gray sweats thrown on over top of it. She looked like she’d been crying.

“What are you two doing here?” she asked, genuinely surprised.

“To see you of course,” Jason answered. “Obviously.” He moved towards her and wrapped his arms tightly around her before moving out of the way for Dick, who pecked her on the cheek quickly before handing her the flowers.

“You were amazing,” Dick smiled, easily slipping her duffel bag off her shoulder and his arm around her.

“You two are sweet. You didn’t have to come all the way out here for me.” Jason couldn’t help but notice the brokenness in her eyes, the way she smiled, but still looked like she might fall apart. Most people would miss it, he knew, but he caught it and from the look on his face, Dick did too.

“Please,” Dick said, his smile growing even brighter, as if he could use some of his own fire to relight her own. “It was important to you, so it was important to us.”

“Mmmm,” she hummed, leaning into Dick as they kept walking out of the alley. She glanced over at Jason, spotting his helmet as well. “And will you two gentlemen be walking me to the bus stop then? If I miss this one, I’ll have to wait another thirty minutes.”

“Your dad’s not coming then?” Jason asked, finding it hard to keep the scorn from his voice. He opened his mouth to say something probably boarding on scathing, but a quick shake of Dick’s head cut him off.

“How about we give you a ride instead? We’ll grab ice cream or dinner first, because I know you didn’t eat before the show tonight.”

“I had a granola,” she whispered, her voice as quiet as Jason had ever heard it, and then he understood. Her father not coming was normal, _expected_. Jason thought back to last year’s show and couldn’t remember her dad being there either. He was a busy man and as much as he loved his daughter, his other responsibilities came first. And Dick was used to it – used to seeing this side of Barbie who refused to admit that she was hurt, but so clearly was.

“Obviously that means ice cream,” he said, doing his best to smile for her. Dick nodded at him as he steered her towards where their bikes were parked.

“Jason’s got the right idea, Babs. A performance like that clearly deserves a peanut butter sundae.”

She laughed at the two of them, but it turned into a groan when she finally realized what they’d be driving out on.

“I should have known,” she whined, turning on Dick. “And _you_ know Jason is too young to be driving.”

Jason's smile brightened as his older brother shrugged sheepishly. “I’m an excellent driver,” Jason quipped. “You can even ride with me and I’ll prove it.” He waggled his eyebrows at her, willing to flirt and make himself a fool if only the sadness in her eyes would leave for good.

“Not a chance in hell,” Dick interrupted, pulling the spare helmet from off his bike and shrugging out of his leather jacket.

Barbie put it on and immediately sank into its warmth, her face relaxing despite her complaints. Jason watched as she grumblingly got onto the back of Dick’s bike, the two of them sharing the same argument about motorcycles they always did until her bag was tucked up against Dick’s chest, and her flowers were clutched in between her fingers as her arms wrapped around him.

It made a part of his chest ache to look at them like that – to _know_ how good the two of them would be for each other if they would just get out of their own way.

“Race you there!” he called, kicking his own bike into action.

\---

Barbara would never admit it, but she loved the feeling of speeding through the Gotham City streets on the back of Dick’s motorcycle. It was fast, and just the tiniest bit dangerous; it made her heart race and her stomach drop. It was a lot like him. She leaned her head in tighter as Dick raced them around the corner, giving Jason’s bike in front of them only enough room to be safe.

These were things she didn’t want to think about – couldn’t afford to. She refused to let her mind dig deeper into the way it made her feel to be so close to him – the way it always felt like this no matter how much she tried to joke and laugh it off. Loving him wasn’t an option, not like he wanted. Not when it could so easily change. She knew her parents had been in love once; there were pictures and stories of a time when the two of them could be in the same room without fighting. But she was pretty sure that was all before she’d been born. And she couldn’t risk it.

Barbara closed her eyes tighter as her mind cycled through various screaming matches between her parents. Without her permission, visions of her father crying when he thought she had already gone to sleep filled her mind. She couldn’t do that to Dick. It was better to keep trying to push him away now so that she never hurt him like her mother had hurt her father. He was so full of life and light and fire; she couldn’t be the reason that light went out.

“You still with me, pretty girl?” Dick asked, his voice quiet and clear over the comm link in her borrowed helmet.

“Still here,” she said, “I’m just…”

“Lost in your own head?”

“A little,” she whispered, hating how he always seemed to know.

“Is it about your mom?” he asked. The smallest part of Barbara regretted telling him that the woman had agreed to come. “Listen, Babs, she isn’t worth it.”

“I don’t want to talk about her.”

“Then we won’t.” Dick leaned hard into a turn, bringing them up next to Jason as they continued. “You were beautiful up there tonight.”

“You’re biased,” she laughed, grateful for how quickly he was willing to let it go.

“Of course I am,” Dick laughed, finally slowing down as they came up to the diner at Lexington and 23rd. He killed the engine and pulled his helmet off, a cheeky smirk on his face. “Jay, you agree with me, don’t you?”

“Maybe,” Jason responded, intelligently refusing to agree before he knew what was going on. “But Barbie is smarter, so I’ll probably pick her side.”

Barbara laughed as Dick pretended to be hurt, his hand pressed to his chest in mock agony.

“Wounded,” he sighed dramatically. “By my own brother!”

“Anyway,” Jason said with an eye roll. “What am I agreeing with?”

“That Babs was fantastic tonight,” Dick said. “And I am plenty smart.”

“Smart _ass_ ,” Barbara agreed, leaning in to kiss his cheek without thinking about it. The smile on Jason’s face reminding her that it was a horrible reflex.

“You two are ridiculous,” he smirked, truing his back with a wave. “I’ll grab us a table.” As soon as the younger boy was out of earshot, Barbara turned to Dick, trying not to chew on her lip in her nervousness.

“Dick, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t keep – ”

“You’re fine,” he interrupted, grabbing her hand in a tight squeeze before letting go. “It’s okay, Babs. Friends can be affectionate too.”

“But I – ”

“It’s _okay,_ ” he insisted, taking her hand again and leading her towards the door. “You’re not ready and that’s _fine_.”

She looked him over, a little jealous of the way he could just _exist_ with an air of confidence. He caught her looking and smiled for real – something that made his eyes sparkle, and her stomach drop.

“Come on,” he said. “Just for tonight, let everything else go. Tonight we’re just getting ice cream. You kicked ass up there dancing, and you deserve to do something fun. We’re friends, Babs. You’re _allowed_ to have friends.”

She nodded, doing everything she could to silence the voice full of doubt in her head – the one that told her being friends with this boy was dangerous, that it always had been, and would be for as long as it lasted.

“Peanut butter sundae?” she asked, going back to his earlier words because they were easier.

“Of course,” he agreed. “You can even put bananas on it. I won’t judge.”

Barbara let a small smile of her own onto her face; she let it grow wider as she spotted Jason waving them towards their usual table in the corner, already joyously seated with his back to the wall – the seat they all knew Dick would have wanted.

“I got you both coffees already,” he said. “I don’t see how either of you can drink the crap though.”

“You will,” Dick assured him with a laugh. “Give it time.”

Barbara took the seat with her back to the door, letting Dick sit beside Jason, trusting that the two boys would watch out for her, like they always did.

“Yeah, whatever.” Jason turned to look at her with an impish smile. “You good, Barbie?”

With a deep breath, she nodded, “I’m good.”

And tonight, she decided, she would be. Tonight could be ice cream and laughter. Tonight she would forget what it felt like to be stood up by her own parents. She set her flowers down beside her, catching the way Dick’s smile grew when he saw them. Tonight she would let her friends take care of her.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! Hopefully you enjoyed it :) - I appreciate your comments, kudos, and bookmarks 💛💛 Make sure you take care of yourself today!


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